There is so much talk of when to cry. At births, deaths, weddings. When you feel for the first time that true feeling that you and anoher have split up. When you feel, for the first time, that you have found someone.

You know what I want that I have never had (besides a set of 35 year-old Scottish twins there to service my box)? I want to be made love to so tenderly, so gently, that it changes my life. And I want him to cry soft, silent tears while he makes love to me. Not tears of "Oops, sorry, I didn't mean to bend your dick that way." But tears of joy, tears of wonder, tears of closeness.

Tears that prove that that moment, that touch, that time, is all that he will ever need and all that he has ever wanted. While we are wrapped together, naked curves, skin on skin to the last centimeter, I want to feel the gaping emotional wound that only comes with knowing that your whole life you have been alone, and only now in silent rhythm you can move towards reparation.

Tears of rapture, of ages, of culmination and exhaltation.

Proof that, for the first time in our lives, we have finally come home to the person we are supposed to be with.

Is that too much to ask?

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:27 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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